


Next year's words

by ItsFunnierInEnochian42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsFunnierInEnochian42/pseuds/ItsFunnierInEnochian42
Summary: Based on a prompt I found in a book. "Imagine your character can't speak for a year. What's the first thing he/she says after the year is up?" So of course I had to make it about Destiel...Title is from a quote from T.S. Eliot "For last year's words belong to last year's languageAnd next year's words await another voice."***Rowena curses Dean and he can't pipe a word for a long time. He realizes he's got things to say to Cas, but that's gonna have to wait.





	Next year's words

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small oneshot I've been working on. I had no Beta for this one, so any mistakes are mine --> keep in mind that my first language is NOT english, so I'm just doing the best I can. Hope you enjoy!

It happened when they were working a case in Louisiana. It was hot and humid, so humid they couldn’t walk thirty seconds outside before their t-shirt glued to their skin, a fine layer of sweat covering every inch of their body. It was difficult to breathe, like the atmosphere contained more water than actual oxygen, which made the whole corpse-digging, salt-and-burn business a lot harder than usual.

Dean was never really the one to complain. He could stand shitty motel rooms for days on end. He could stand doing research for hours before ganking some monster. He could stand the noise Sam would make as he gets up at four in the morning so he could do his jogging. He survived Hell for forty years, for Christ’s sake. He could stand a lot of things, but the suffocating heat? Dean hated the heat.

And he was making sure everyone in a ten mile radius would know.

They both had hoped for an easy case, Sam and him, the kind of case where you arrive in town in the morning, gather up some information, talk to a few witnesses, then dig up a corpse or exorcise some demon and voilà, advance to GO, collect 200, end of story.

But it turned out a lot more complicated than that, and after a few days of turning in circles, Sam convinced Dean to call some back up, making a point that the faster they would solve this, the faster they would get out of this giant furnace that Louisiana was. They tried calling Cas, but only received a deafening silence in return, which only left them with a few options. So just like that, with an exasperated sigh, some negotiations and the press of a button on Sam’s phone, Rowena appeared on their doorstep, all flamboyant red hair, crimson lips and curvy dresses.

And that’s when shit hit the fan.

Rowena wasn’t and still isn’t the type to take bullshit from anyone. Especially not Dean. And Dean had and still has one hell of a smart mouth, making the perfect cocktail for disaster. The case became harder to solve, the two of them too busy bickering to actually work. Dean kept complaining, Rowena kept throwing snarg replies everytime he opened his mouth. Sam decided it was time for an intervention when death threats started flying from both sides of the tiny motel room.

“Please, guys, can we just gank the damn thing and go home?”

“Are you seriously taking her side?” Dean said, offended.

“I promise, Samuel, if you don’t put a leash on your brother soon, I’ll make sure he never peeps another word for at least a year.” Rowena added.

“ENOUGH!” Sam yelled, taking both of them by surprise. “That’s enough. I’m not stuck in this infernal heat to be a damn babysitter. I’m here to solve a case. So you two can SHUT UP already, or else I'm locking you into this room without the A/C until you sort your shit out. Do I make myself clear?”

Dean grumbled. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side-”

“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.” Sam cut, punctuating every word.

A staring contest between the three of them followed, but after a few seconds, Dean finally flinched.

“Fine, whatever.”

“Thank God, you’ll finally shut that mouth of yours” Rowena whispered.

“Are you gonna shut yours too or do I have to do it myself?” Dean snarled.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“That’s it. You’re dead.”

Dean rose to his feet, his flannel shirt sticking to the wooden chair he was sitting on. He was feeling like he’d just jumped into a pool all dressed up, his jeans sticking to his thighs, his shirt heavy, his forehead - his whole body - damp. But that was all secondary, because he’d been waiting for this moment, that sweet, sweet moment when he would have the actual chance to kill that witch that’s been making his life a living hell for the past few years. They had kept her around since she could be useful, but today was the day. He vaguely heard Sam sighed and drop his head on the desk in front of his laptop, being to exhausted by the heat to even make a move to stop his brother.

But then, as Dean was ready to hit her directly in the face with one of their gigantic lore book, Rowena smirked and snapped her fingers. Dean stopped dead in his track.

Something was around his throat. Or more accurately, inside his throat. He thought Rowena had hidden a hex bag somewhere and she was maybe about to kill him, and he felt panic fastly taking roots in the pit of his stomach. But soon enough, he realized that the thing wrapped inside his throat wasn’t meant to prevent him from breathing; he could do that just fine, even though the feeling was quite strange.

Sam looked up, suddenly fearing the silence he was seeking seconds ago. “Dean, you okay?”

Yes, he was. Or that’s what he’d wanted to say, but nothing came out. His lips moved, but no sound, not even a whisper, escaped them. He tried to clear his throat, but that didn’t help. He turned around to look at Rowena who was still sitting on the couch, her smirk now a wide grin.

“I told you I would make sure you would stop talking.”

Dean’s hand flew to his throat.

“There’s no use, sweetheart.” She got up, stepping closer to Dean. “You can’t speak anymore. At least, not for the next 365 days. And…” she took a dramatic pause, “you can look in every magic book you can find, every tablet, every spell… You won’t find anything to regain your voice. This is a spell of my own creation, and no one knows how to remove it. Not even myself.”

She looked directly into Dean’s eyes, as if she was waiting for him to make a move.

“Nothing? Not even a slap? You disappoint me. See you in a year, Ariel.”

And with another snap of her fingers, she disappeared, leaving Dean mouth wide open, screaming a roar that would never come.

***

They did try to find a solution in the beginning. They really did. They went back to the bunker and searched for days, going through every single book they had in the library. But Rowena wasn’t messing around about that spell. There was nothing. Not even a single word or margin note about that kind of spell. They tried everything they knew, and they even tried calling other hunters to see if anyone had heard of something like that, but no one had a clue.

“We should call Cas…” offered Sam after a few weeks of research.

The only answer he got was an intense glare from Dean that meant the complete opposite of ‘Yeah, of course, what a brilliant idea’.

“Seriously, Dean, we can’t keep this up. We gotta find a way.”

Then again, just like that, with an exasperated sigh, some negotiations - though silent, this time - and the press of a button on Sam’s phone (along with a few prayers), Castiel swooshed into the bunker, head cocked to the side, blue eyes staring through them.

“Hello, Sam.” He turned his head toward the pile of flannel lumped on the kitchen table. “Dean.”

Dean didn’t move.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam said. “We need you.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Rowena did something to Dean and we can’t find a solution. Would you mind lending us a hand?’

Castiel’s eyes went from Sam to Dean a couple of times, before his face relaxed. “Of course.”

***

Nothing. Months had passed and they had nothing. Castiel was trying his best, helping with books and lore and research, but nothing. Dean hadn’t said a word in months and his mood was getting worse every day.

Except when Cas was around.

Sam had noticed a few things. He was always good at seeing through Dean, but even more so since he couldn’t speak to ask things. Sam had grown used to know Dean’s mood with only his posture, or his expression. And he had noticed how Dean’s mood would shift when Cas was around.

Dean would suddenly look a little brighter, stars shining softly in his pupils. He would part his lips like if he’d wanted to say something, but close them the moment Cas would look at him. His chest would rise faster for a couple minutes when they would hear Castiel’s wings teleport him in the bunker. His eyes would go up faster than usual if Cas was the one saying Dean’s name. He would always sit closer to Cas, and if his chair was on the other side of the table, he would drag it around until he would be sitting less than a few feet from Cas.

Not only that, but he surprised Dean walking behind Cas and just lightly brush his fingers against Castiel’s neck. Sam wasn’t sure Dean even realized he was doing the gesture, but the fact he didn’t think about it was even more interesting. Sam noticed how Cas and him didn’t have to even look at each other to communicate. It was some stupid things, like when Sam offered to make Dean a pork sandwich and Cas wooshed in saying Dean would prefer turkey. How Sam could see the look on Castiel’s face when Dean was in one of those moods.

One evening, Sam was taking a break from his research and walked to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. As he stepped in, he came face to face with his brother leaning against the counter, looking down at a note fastly scrawled on a piece of crumpled paper.

“Dean? What’s going on?”

Dean took the piece of paper, squished it into a ball and threw it at Sam, before sliding down to the ground, his back to the wall. Sam fetched the ball of paper and opened it, to read Castiel’s messy handwriting.

 _I’m sorry but I have to go. I have business to attend to in Heaven._  
_I wish I could help but I’m fairly certain we’ll have to wait until the year passes before you find your voice again._  
_~~I lov~~ _  
_I’m sorry._  
_-C._

Sam looked up, his mind spinning a hundred miles per hour. He looked at his brother, rolled into a foetal position on the ground, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. Sam knew that position. Sam knew it because he’s seen plenty of people having the same reaction learning they’d lost their loved ones due to a random monster. Sam knew it because he’s seen his father adopt it when he had more alcohol than blood flowing through his veins and was thinking about his wife’s death. Sam knew it because he’s done the same when he had to leave Amelia.

He walked slowly over to Dean, looking for any sign that would show him he wasn’t welcome to sit down. When he saw none, he crouched down next to his brother, still shuffling the note in his hands. They sat like that for a few minutes, Sam giving Dean enough time to regain his composure. After a time, Sam decided to break the silence, with a simple question.

“Do you love him back?”

Dean kept his head low, his hands still covering his face, but he nodded imperceptibly.

Even if Cas hadn’t written the incomplete declaration, Sam had known about his feelings for a while. Cas had turned his back to his family, to his home, so he could keep Dean safe. He’d risked his life over and over again, he’d sacrificed himself more than once, only to keep Dean safe. He’d watched over Dean, he’d taken care of him. He’d fought an entire army of Heaven’s most powerful angels, just to protect Dean. If that wasn’t proof of love, than nothing was.

Knowing Dean’s feelings though, that was something else. Maybe he wasn’t so subtle about Cas, but a brush on one’s neck, a good chemistry and a few glances here and there weren’t much of a declaration compared to what Cas had done. Sure, Dean wasn’t as oblivious as Cas. But the line between friendship and love was sometimes a thin one, and a dangerous one.

“Dean, I know you can’t say a word so I’m gonna use that at my advantage right now. I’m just asking you to listen to me.” Seeing Dean wasn’t about to get up and leave, Sam continued. “I know this isn’t easy. I know, you don’t usually develop.. Feelings… And I know Cas isn’t your type, to put it like that.” Sam cleared his throat. His monologue was coming out a lot more awkward than he had expected. “But he’s your exception. Like Jess was my exception.” At those words, Dean’s head snapped to Sam. “Don’t look at me like that. Jess had never been my type of girl. I usually go for brunettes and more… Studious ones. Jess was more of a party girl. But she had this smile that could light up a whole room. She had a way to soothe me, to make me feel strong and capable, and vulnerable at the same time. I wanted to protect her with everything I had, and I know she was willing to do the same for me. Cas went literally through hell to protect you, and you’ve done the same for him. It doesn’t take a degree in social psychology to see that Cas and you have a connection, and that connection is worth something.”

“I know you’re scared. I know this is new for you. But I can assure you it’s new for him too. You’ll figure it out as you go. If it can be figured out, you guys are the ones that can. You two deserve to be happy.”

They both stayed on the ground, in the kitchen. Sam was giving Dean time to process everything he’d said. He was playing in the dirt on the ground, drawing circles and stars and other random doodles, but Sam knew his brother was thinking. Until Dean stopped playing and tapped his finger three times on the ground, staring into nothing. That was a sign the wheels in his head had stopped turning. He’d found a solution.

“So” Sam said. “What are you gonna do?”

***

Two days. Two days, and he would get his voice back. Two days and his one year would be over. Two days and Dean would finally be able to say what he’d wanted to say for so many years, but never had the courage to.

Castiel had told them he would come by to see if Rowena had said the truth. He had also swore that if Dean was going to stay mute even after 365 days, he would personally move Heaven and Hell, past and future, until Rowena would answer for her actions. That statement had earned Dean a knowing look from Sam, which he brushed aside with a flick of his wrist.

Still, Dean was ecstatic, yet completely overwhelmed at the same time. He wasn’t good with dealing with his feelings, he was even worse at dealing with other’s feelings. What he was planning to do would smashed his feelings and Castiel’s together and no one could say what would come out of this clash. The only consolation he had was to know that he would finally be free of all the tension that had built between them over the years.

He barely slept during those two days, and when he drifted off, he dreamt of blue eyes and chapped lips.

It’s after one of those dreams that he woke up, and opened his eyes just to find the same chapped lips standing directly in his line of sight. His heart started to beat faster, his hands started to tremble and he felt his stomach twist into knots.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean waved. He’d been getting so used to it that he didn’t even try to use his voice.

“Can’t you talk yet?”

Castiel’s voice was full of worry and Dean noticed a touch of anger, and an even more subtle touch of sadness. He took a deep breath and sat up in his bed, steeling himself.

“Hi Cas.”

The words came out weird, foreign in his own mouth. He hadn’t speak for so long, it felt like another language.

“Finally.” Cas let out a shaky breath.

“Cas I need to tell you something.”

“Don’t strain yourself, Dean. You need to take it easy or else you can hurt your vocal chords. Whatever you have to say can wait.”

“That’s the thing. I’ve waited long enough.” Panic shone in Castiel’s eyes. “I…” The words were stuck in his throat. For all the time he had to imagine and think about how this moment would turn out, he was still incapable of actually saying them.

“It’s okay, Dean, you-”

Dean leaned over and grabbed Castiel by the neck to pull him in for a rough kiss. So what if he couldn’t say it? He could at least show it. Sam was probably gonna give him hell when he finds out, nagging him about how much you need your voice to kiss someone, but Dean’s gonna make sure his sasquatch of a brother will leave him and Cas alone. He would probably kiss Cas in front of Sam everytime he’s gonna bring it up, just so he shuts his mouth.

Because that was the beauty of all of it. Castiel was kissing back. He was even demanding more, grabbing Dean’s hand and pulling him in even more, cradling his face with his free hand, tentatively pushing his tongue to taste Dean’s lips.

Things weren’t always perfect in their line of work. But this? This was better than everything Dean had experienced in his life. And he would be damned if he decided he would never again kiss Castiel when he well pleased.

 


End file.
